


Concomitance

by Jess_B_Fossil



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sylvain Jose Gautier, Canon Compliant, Collaboration, Domestic Fluff, Embedded Images, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fodlan secrets zine, M/M, Post-Canon, The picture is definitely NSFW, Top Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_B_Fossil/pseuds/Jess_B_Fossil
Summary: Sylvain pulls Felix close, tugging him to his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he shoves his face into Felix’s neck, and well--It’s not that Sylvain isn’t public with his affections, or that Felix even minds much, but it’s unusually tactile.Felix is dirty and sweaty, and covered in several day’s worth of grime from his ride. Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind, fingers loosing his braid as they lace into his hair, tugging at it slightly. “Felix,” Sylvain murmurs into his ear, breath hot and heavy on his neck. “Felix,” he repeats softly against him, voice already strained with anticipation as his lips ghost along the tender skin there. “Goddess above, I want you to fuck me.”
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 129





	Concomitance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to finally post this! 
> 
> I wrote this fic as part of a collaboration piece for the Fodlan Secrets Zine. It features art from the AMAZING [SpicyEmblems, who you can find linked here. ](https://twitter.com/spicyemblems) I've put the image in this fic, but please be sure to follow his work on Twitter, okay? This project was a dream come true!

The moment of their reunion usually goes like this:

One of them stands on the steps leading to the grand entrance of their manor, while the other rides up on a horse, bone-weary and exhausted. 

The Fraldarius Estate is compact and tight, towering with its multiple levels of dark grey and blue bricks. The entrance is relatively small, the double doors barely the width of two men standing side-by-side. 

If it’s Felix waiting, he’ll stand there with a near snarl on his face, lips tugged downwards, despite the itchy thrumming that rages through his body. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to get his hands on Sylvain really, because Sylvain is _always_ late. By the time that he rides up on his pitiful horse, Felix is too annoyed to do much aside from smack him hard across the shoulder. 

In contrast, the Gautier estate is wide and sprawling, a fortress of white-washed limestone, only two stories tall. A broad staircase fans out and leads up to the grand entrance. The double-wide and wooden doors seem as impervious as the stronghold itself, the heavy oak pitted with age. 

If it’s Sylvain waiting, he’ll titter with nervous energy, lips already wide in a blinding smile before he can even see Felix crest the horizon proper. It doesn’t matter if the messenger sent ahead has told him that Felix will be another hour, he’ll still wait. 

Sylvain will sit and wait on those massive steps for hours if need be, until his ass is numb from the hard limestone, and his legs are asleep with pins and needles.

This time isn’t much different as Felix he rides up to the estate. As expected, Sylvain’s already there, trying to look like a picture perfect Margrave, _trying_ to look like pulling Felix into his bedroom the moment that he dismounts, isn’t the only thing on his mind. He’s never been good at it. Sylvain can’t hide the excited flush of his cheeks, or how he helps Felix down from his steed with eager hands, throwing the reins to a stable boy without another word. 

Sylvain pulls Felix close, tugging him to his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he shoves his face into Felix’s neck, and well--

It’s not that Sylvain isn’t public with his affections, or that Felix even minds much, but it’s unusually tactile.

Felix is dirty and sweaty, and covered in several day’s worth of grime from his ride. Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind, fingers loosing his braid as they lace into his hair, tugging at it slightly. 

“Felix,” Sylvain murmurs into his ear, breath hot and heavy on his neck. _“Felix,”_ he repeats softly against him, voice already strained with anticipation as his lips ghost along the tender skin there. _“Goddess above, I want you to fuck me.”_

The words are soft enough that no one else can hear them, but they have the desired effect, shooting straight to his groin. Felix knows that if they stand there on the steps any longer, Sylvain will start to put on a show that’ll be part of the castle gossip for weeks to come. 

“A bath,” Felix says as he pulls away, and Sylvain whines, just a small, pathetic little sound. “I’m _disgusting.”_ There’s a pause, and then, “We can share it.”

He feels Sylvain’s mouth curve into a smile against his jaw, before he pulls away. Felix looks at Sylvain finally, reaching up to press a hand against his cheek, just resting there. To most, it might not look like much, but Sylvain knows that it’s a gesture that means the world. 

Felix lets himself be led inside.

#

Sylvain usually has one mode in bed. Felix isn’t complaining; _he’s not_ . He _likes_ being worshiped like a damn god, carefully and thoroughly taken apart and put back together until he’s nothing but a puddle in the bed sheets. Felix _likes_ being left too exhausted and tired to do anything other than fall asleep tucked into Sylvain’s side, sweaty cheek sticking to his broad chest.

They’re barely out of the bath and into the mattress, when Sylvain leans close and repeats those words again. _I want you to fuck me_. 

Sylvain’s so pliable when he’s like this, all hot and bothered, blood boiling in his veins. Felix presses him into the bed, climbing over him, legs settled around Sylvain’s strong thighs. He runs his hands down the hard planes of Sylvain’s chest, watching him, wanting him, _needing_ him more than he’d ever admit aloud. 

Those kinds of words are reserved for very specific, very rare moments of devout affection. Sylvain always wants to hear them, but he doesn’t need to, and that’s why they work so well together; that’s why they’re like two pieces of a puzzle. They’ve moved beyond the need for actual words.

Felix’s hands find the familiar bottle of oil tucked into a side table, his fingers slicked within seconds as his hand reaches back behind him and--

“Felix, that’s not what I meant,” Sylvain says quietly, reaching out to grab his wrist. 

Felix stops, confused. “Are you daft? We’re in bed, we’re--”

“No, _no,”_ Sylvain starts, but then he bites his lip, like he’s afraid to say whatever he’s about to say. It’s dumb. And really-- Sylvain’s dumb most of the time, and says a lot of dumb shit, but Felix wouldn’t ever fault him for it. Not really. 

Not even now, while Felix is perched carefully above him, slick fingers halted.

“I want you to fuck me,” Sylvain finally blurts. 

Felix looks down at him, their hips still slotted together, cocks half-hard against each other and waiting. He wiggles his oil-slick fingers and says, “I know. That’s the point of--”

“No, Felix,” Sylvain says, this time softer, more timid. “I want _you_ to fuck _me.”_ He punctuates the words differently, hips twitching upwards and--

Oh. _Oh_. 

Felix’s mouth falls open, unsure how to immediately respond. They’ve never really talked about this. The first time they’d fallen into bed with each other, it’d been during the war in Sylvain’s field tent. Sylvain had been desperate to feel something, _anything_ really, and Felix hadn’t wanted to die without knowing-- without knowing _him_. In the present, they click together perfectly, like a well oiled machine that always feels so good. There’s never been any point in _changing it_. 

Not that Felix hasn’t thought about it. Or Sylvain, apparently, cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment as he looks anywhere but Felix’s face. 

And so, that’s how they’ve ended up here, Felix moving to sit back on his haunches at the edge of the mattress. Sylvain stretched out, chest down and face turned to the side as he looks back at him, eyes already half lidded and hazy. 

Felix knows how this works, but it doesn’t help the hesitation that racks through him, because he wants Sylvain to enjoy this, he wants him to lose himself to pleasure and--

“I’ve done it before,” Sylvain says, interrupting his thoughts. “Well, not like… not like _it_ , but I’ve used my fingers on lonely nights, so I kind of know what to expect.”

He doesn’t though, Felix thinks, not really, because your own fingers are entirely different than someone else’s. 

“Felix.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet. “I trust you.”

Felix finally reaches out, pressing a hand to the small of Sylvain’s back. It’s broad, Felix’s hand dwarfed by the wide planes, skin softly tan and spattered with freckles. Sylvain looks so good like this, laid out before him, waiting. Wanting, already hard and desperate. 

“I know,” Felix finally says, and it’s because he does. There’s so few people that Sylvain trusts and Felix is the only one that he’ll ever truly surrender himself to, fully and wholeheartedly. 

His hand slides down to grab at his backside, kneading the skin there. Then his thumb dips into the crack between his cheeks and Sylvain shudders at the touch.

“It’ll be different,” Felix says to him, “than doing it to yourself.” He pulls one cheek to the side to look properly, watching reverently as he thumbs over Sylvain’s hole. Not probing, just a gentle touch, testing the waters before they even start. 

“I know,” Sylvain breathes, hips already wiggling, already trying to press back against his grasp. 

Felix slicks his fingers once more, just in case, before pressing his thumb against Sylvain. He circles the muscle there softly, making it a slow process even if Sylvain thinks he’s prepared. Felix has every intention of truly savoring it, watching him come undone underneath his fingertips.

Felix shifts slightly as he eases in a finger, his other hand digging into the fleshy muscle of Sylvain’s ass, spreading him for better access. Sylvain’s hips buck slightly, but Felix smooths his hand along his backside, carefully pressing in to the knuckle. Sylvain moans lowly, already pressing back against his hand, and Felix smiles, a small and reserved thing. 

“Oh,” Sylvain breathes. His head is tucked to the side, cheek resting against his pillow.

“Alright?” Felix asks, sinking his finger in further, his free hand rubbing soft circles against his backside. 

“Yes,” Sylvain says, pressing back against his hand, trying to feel more, trying to get more friction. Felix’s lips twist into a small smile; that’s a feeling that he knows well. 

He slips the finger out and presses back in with a little more force, wiggling it around, and--

“Felix,” Sylvain says, practically a whimper and Felix pauses. 

“Already so eager,” Felix says, a little bit in awe, because even though he’s thought about this, he’d never thought that Sylvain would seek it out himself. He slips his finger out and slicks his hand again, just to be safe. He presses back with two fingers this time, telling Sylvain to relax as he pushes them in slowly. Cautiously. Too much so, because Sylvain lets out a frustrated grunt, as he tries to wriggle his hips. 

“Felix, please.”

Felix hums at that. “Already begging,” he says, but the words are strained, because Sylvain’s pitiful moans and whines drop straight to Felix’s groin. He’s harder than he’s ever felt before, cock practically burning to be inside, to know just how hot and tight Sylvain is. 

Felix complies, spreading his fingers and scissoring them to open Sylvain up, and the groan that Sylvain offers up in response is the thing of Felix’s filthiest dreams. He pumps his fingers in with more force, massaging into him thoroughly, trying to find--

Sylvain’s hips stop abruptly, before slamming back against Felix’s hand. “Goddess,” he hisses. _“Felix, there--”_

“There,” Felix says, pulling Sylvain’s ass cheek to the side as he dips his fingers back into him at a faster pace, over and over, watching Sylvain’s hole swallow them up easily. It’s addicting, to see, to feel. Sylvain warm and pliant around his fingers, bucking back against his hand, _clearly_ enjoying this, and suddenly, Felix gets it. He gets why Sylvain loves to watch him fall apart at his touch, because Felix could get addicted to the way that Sylvain is arching back into his touch. 

It’s a sight to behold, and Felix presses a soft kiss to the back of Sylvain’s thigh. 

“I’m-- _I’m--”_ Sylvain stops his hips again, chest heaving as he groans into the pillow. “Not yet,” he pleads. “I don’t-- not yet. Not until you’re inside, I want to come around you and--” 

Sylvain’s babbling; he’s already so close to the edge, that he’s a stuttering mess. Felix is absolutely sure that Sylvain’s words alone will send himself hurtling over the edge just as easily. 

“Shh,” Felix soothes, pulling his fingers out and smoothing a hand over Sylvain’s backside. He thumbs gently at the loosened hole, and Sylvain swallows a heavy sigh, thankful for the brief reprieve. 

And then-- “Felix, please,” he says quietly. 

Felix hums as he sits up on his knees, taking his cock into his slick hand, stroking himself once to take the edge off. He closes his eyes before tipping the oil over himself, spreading it along his length. And then he regards Sylvain again, Felix’s thumb dipping between his cheeks once more, sliding along the slick crack. 

“Fe,” Sylvain says, muffled slightly by the folds of his pillow. “Please, I’ve always--” And then he sighs. _“Please.”_

“I’ve never done this,” Felix tells him, “Not with anyone else. Only you.” He slides into Sylvain with surprising ease, despite the hot and tight grip of the fluttering muscle, despite the near blinding sensation. He goes slowly, the drag and friction already pulling him way closer to the edge than he wants to be. 

“Shit,” Sylvain says underneath him. It’s a word that Felix feels in his core, eyes slipping closed as he bites his lip, pressing deeper and deeper and deeper. “Shit, _shit--”_

It’s not a bad _shit,_ being uttered; Sylvain moans the word with airy breathlessness, as Felix bottoms out, fingers curled tight around Sylvain’s sharp hip bones.

“Goddess,” Felix groans. He’s never felt anything like this before; Sylvain is so perfect around him. Felix’s breath hitches as he holds still, trying to get used to the sensation of being pulled in and surrounded, trying to fathom that he’s settled deep inside of him.

Felix presses a hand against the small of Sylvain’s back, pulling out a little bit and pressing back in. A small motion, just for Sylvain to get used to the feel of it, but it’s more than Felix could have ever imagined, it feels one thousand times better than he’s ever dreamed. All he wants to do is drive into that silken heat relentlessly. 

“I didn’t know--” Sylvain chokes on his words, “Fuck, it feels-- _you feel so good, shit.”_

Felix pulls back, moving to grab Sylvain’s ass, spreading his cheeks, watching his hole swallow him up as he slides back in. “Look at you,” Felix says, voice hoarse with strain. His fingers slide to where they’re connected, resting against where Sylvain is stretched wide open. “Taking me so perfectly. It’s a sight that I’ll never tire of, I could watch it for days.”

Felix quickens his thrusts and slides deeper, longer, hands slipping back to Sylvain’s hips to yank him closer. “Up,” Felix says to him, because he knows that he’s not going to last much longer, and he wants to indulge for as long as he can. “Up,” he repeats softer, pausing. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Sylvain says, “Okay, okay, just--” There’s a moment of awkward shuffling before Sylvain is on his knees, leaning back against Felix’s chest. Felix grabs onto of Sylvain’s hips tightly, driving his cock in just so and--

“Fe-- _Oh.”_

The angle’s different now, Felix pressed as deep into Sylvain as he can manage. He grinds his hips against Sylvain, who nearly falls back against him, whining and panting, meeting Felix’s movements as he tries to chase the delicious burn of friction. 

“Perfect,” Felix says into his ear, nose tucked into the soft skin of Sylvain’s neck. He smells like sandalwood and sin, arching back against Felix. “Goddess, this is-- I wonder if I feel like this, if I feel as good as you do?”

“Yes,” Sylvain says, “You’re always so--” His words are cut short by a deep moan.

“So what? Wrapped perfectly around you?” Felix punctuates his words with a deep grind. 

“Good to me-- Fuck, Fe, I need more. _Please._ ”

Felix knows that tone, the soft, hazy one that Sylvain gets when he’s on the precipice. The hand that Felix has on his hip slides around to grab Sylvain’s hand, leading it to his cock, which has been dutifully ignored.

“Touch yourself,” Felix says, breath hot against his sweaty skin as Sylvain grasps at himself wantonly. Sylvain bucks into his hand, head thrown back against Felix’s shoulder. He can’t seem to decide which direction he wants to grind his hips.

“Which do you prefer?” Felix asks him, and maybe it’s cruel, but he wants to know, he _needs_ to know. Felix grips his hips tightly, pressing in deep and halting his movements entirely. Sylvain whimpers, but Felix waits for an answer, one hand reaching up to his scalp, fingers curling around his hair.

“Sylvain?” Felix asks, grinding his cock deeper, tugging at Sylvain’s locks just a little harder. “Do you prefer to be the one sunk deep into me? Or do you like this better? You’re so perfect, no fantasy can ever hold a candle to this.”

“This,” Sylvain breathes. “This-- _oh fuck, there, Fe, Fe, there--”_

Felix holds the angle, thrusting in and out, as Sylvain strokes his cock in time. Sylvain’s a moaning mess in front of him, and Felix groans, eyes slipping closed as he just listens and feels. It’s not his preference, he doesn’t think, but _Goddess it’s good_ , it’s so good, and when Felix says that Sylvain is perfect, he means it. 

“Sylvain,” Felix murmurs into his neck, tongue snaking out to lick his sweaty skin. _“Sylvain,”_ he moans, voice pitched so low that he barely recognizes it. Felix presses his cock in deep, grinding a slow circle. The flame that’s been stoked low in his belly is now ablaze, growing taut. Then Felix tips over the edge, searing with burning heat as his orgasm washes over him in waves.

“Oh, Felix,” Sylvain says. _“Goddess, I-- I love you,”_ he keens. Felix reaches around batting Sylvain’s hand away to grasp his length instead. He slides his hand over him faster and faster, fingers twisting around the crown of his cock just right. Sylvain follows him quickly as he comes all over Felix’s hand, crying out his name and a litany of _I love yous_ , back arching sharply as he rides out the high. 

“It’s okay,” Felix says, still holding his cock gingerly, forehead pressed against the back of Sylvain’s sweaty neck. “So good for me, always so good,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. And then another, and another. 

Felix eases himself out of Sylvain gently, as the other man leans forward with a groan, settling into the bed sheets like he can’t hold himself up anymore. Felix smiles at that, just a little thing; he knows what the aftermath can be like, legs like jelly and the sudden loss of being so perfectly full. 

Felix looks. He can’t help it, sliding his hand along the crease of Sylvain’s ass, thumbing gently at his reddened hole. Sylvain moans again, but it’s soft and satisfied. Tired and loving.

When Felix leaves him, it’s only for a moment to wet a towel. He cleans him up quietly, reverently, Sylvain still face first and loose-limbed against the bed. Felix’s hands skim over his skin lightly, pressing at the backs of his thighs, kneading at his sore muscles. 

Sylvain sighs into his pillow, eyes closed in bliss. It shouldn’t affect him so, Felix thinks, but it does. He’s seen Sylvain spent more times than he could possibly count, but never like this. Never so blissfully, exhausted and exposed. Sylvain had wanted that, he’d begged to share this with him and--

Felix sighs softly, contently, before finishing his work and chucking the towel into a hamper. 

When he’s settled against the headboard, Sylvain finally moves, slotting against his side, cheek resting against his chest as his eyes slip closed. 

“Are you going to tell me what all that was about?” Felix asks, fingers slipping into Sylvain’s sweat-slicked hair and combing through the strands gently. Sylvain doesn’t stiffen, but he does hesitate, which prompts Felix to continue. “It’s not a judgement,” he says quietly. “Only curiosity.”

“I’ve wanted it for a long time,” Sylvain finally says. “It’s not that it hasn’t been enough, but I just--” He sighs. “I just wanted to give you everything that I have, not that I have a lot,” he finishes. “It sounds stupid, maybe, but when you leave, I always want something to remember you by.” 

Felix’s hand pauses. “Sylvain,” he says quietly, “That isn’t stupid. It isn’t--” He pauses, because he isn’t good with words, he’s never been good with words. He’s only been good with Sylvain, and even that’s only been a recent thing. 

So, he finally settles on, “We have that dumb promise.” 

Sylvain laughs gently, before he responds. “Felix--”

“No,” Felix cuts in. “I know that I get annoyed when you bring it up, but it’s not because the promise itself is vexing; it’s because you don’t need to remind me about it. You don’t need to _give_ me anything, just like you don’t need anything to _remember_ me by.” His next words are quieter. “I might not be able to promise you that I won’t leave, but I can promise you that I will always come back.”

Sylvain pulls away to sit up, leaning over Felix. Felix looks up at him, searching his face, trying not to feel the warmth that floods through him at the sight at Sylvain’s soft little smile. 

“Felix,” he says, reaching out to brush his bangs back. 

“You are the only person,” Felix says suddenly, momentarily betrayed by a rare urge to be open and honest. To let the crack in his hard coated veneer slip open, just a little bit, if only for a moment. “You are the only reason that I am here, Sylvain. I will _always_ find my way back to your side.”   
  
Sylvain sits back, moving to hold Felix’s cheeks between his hands. He’s quiet because he knows what it means for Felix to bear himself like this, even in these quiet, intimate moments. 

“Yeah?” Sylvain finally asks, thumbing across his cheekbone, dropping his head until their foreheads are touching. It’s not a proposal, but it’s not far off, and it’s likely the closest that Felix will ever get to properly asking. 

Felix sighs as his eyes slip closed, sinking into Sylvain’s presence. “Yeah,” he says, and he means it, he means it with his entire being. He means every sunrise, every sunset, and every breath that he has, because he loves, loves, _loves_ this damn fool. It’s all powerful and all consuming.

Felix opens his eyes to find Sylvain looking down at him. Then Sylvain yanks his jaw up, eyes darkening as he slides his thumb along Felix’s bottom lip. That burning desire pools again, as the fire deep within Felix sets alight once more. It leaks through his pores, and Sylvain can sense it, eyes sharp and body already hard, pressed against him. 

There are one thousand ways that Felix can respond, but what he does is unexpected and out of character. 

“I love you,” Felix says. “Forever and always. You are everything to me.”

Sylvain halts again, and there’s that _look_ , the one that’s indescribable, like Felix is this book that’s so hard to read, but he understands even so. Like Felix is the only thing in his world, right at that moment.

“Kiss me, you insatiable fool,” Felix says, that crisp exterior of his hardening once more. 

Sylvain laughs, before falling over him. It’s a well-known dance of theirs, Felix thinks; nothing new. But it’s always special, and it’s always what he needs. Soft spoken words of devotion, between soft silken sheets. 

Felix knows that it’ll last forever.

#  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come join me in [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HornyBaldFossil) Hell.


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